


Impure Thoughts

by Anonymous



Category: Dangan Ronpa V3: Killing Harmony - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 17:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16100339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Daydreams of the deceased.





	Impure Thoughts

She'd just died the night prior, but here he is, picturing what 'could have been.'

Silky soft thighs already spread invitingly as she knelt on a table in the library, the thin cotton between them already darkening with lust as she wiggled in anticipation. 

How he'd covet every gentle brush of his fingers against her and sliiiiiiiide her white as snow panties off one leg completely. The way he'd grind against the curve of her ass before dipping lower and parting those plump lips and coat himself in her warmth and wetness. Of how she'd fit perfectly against him when he pulled their hips together, or the tiny squeaks and mews she'd make as he'd tease her - slow press alternating with the brisk swirls of his fingers on her clit - until he finally lined them up proper and wedged his way inside.

His hips stutter at the thought of her innards clinging to him - a sultry heat, pulsing and alive - and he grips the base of his cock to keep from coming.

Not yet.

They'd be slow, friction building with momentum, the sound of their bodies slapping together deafening in that musty room. His free hand would trace up from its counterpart, away from the tangle of blonde curls at the apex of her thighs and glide up her soft, pale stomach, dipping into her bellybutton and rimming it, tickling up her ribs and under a full breast.

Did she wear a white bra too? Was it lacy or satin or cotton? He settled on cotton with a modest lace trim, tucking away thoughts of peekaboos and harnesses for later; for their first time it would be _simple_.

So under her breast and up past the elastic of the band, gripping the heavy flesh and rolling her nipple - a muddied pink, he decided. He thought of the noises she'd make then, of the sound of his name on her breaking voice, of the ways she'd squirm and squeeze around him, of how she'd cum harder than ever as he came inside.

Panting in bed he pumps the last drops out to the thought of his seed drooling down her thighs. He thinks of how he'd slip out and they'd curl into one another, cuddling - she seemed like a cuddler - and relish in the high, in the warmth of one another. Of how he'd pull her close and say just how deeply he'd fallen in love with her.

How she'd...

She'd...

....she'd....

He stopped, eyes moist.

What _would_ she do? _Could_ she do?

_Nothing._

Doing, after all, is for the living.

So he tucks away his fairy tale escape and Happily Ever After and cries himself to sleep, stomach still sticky with his own release.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking of doing another (happier) one for the Love Suite?  
> Either way: Lemme know what you thought!


End file.
